


In The Woods

by ScriptrixDraconum



Series: Healer [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Honorhall Orphanage, Hunting, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScriptrixDraconum/pseuds/ScriptrixDraconum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to "A Healer's Touch". Story fills in the early life of Fjornir, future Dragonborn, beginning when he was 10 years old. Featured characters: Vex, Brynjolf, Mercer, Aela, Farkas, Vilkas, and likely many other in-game people. The story will be a series of one-shots capturing moments in Fjornir's life leading up to Helgen. M for eventual kink. (All in-game content owned by Bethesda).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loss

**Author's Note:**

> So here's my first chapter of the prequel to "A Healer's Touch". You don't have to have read the other stories to understand/enjoy this one! I loved my Fjornir-Dragonborn character so much that I wanted to expand his story, and give the Dragonborn a life before Helgen. This chapter is based off a dream-memory that Fjornir has in "Dragon Child" (part 2 of "A Healer's Touch"), and those two paragraphs are inserted in this chapter verbatim. I thought this whole experience as a child explained, in part, his overreaction to a certain scene in "A Healer's Touch". Drama drama! That's what Fjornir is all about. He just has too many feels! If you've read "Dragon Child" then you'll know what the rest of his dream-memory involved, which will give you a hint at what else is coming up in this Dragonborn backstory prequel. I'm really excited to write it, even if I don't have that much time to do so. The prequel may in the end be written as a series of one-shots that detail the early life of Fjornir, or it may develop into an entire story. We'll see!
> 
> And just in case you didn't read the other stories: In this version of the world, Fjornir (eventually the Dragonborn) was an orphan, grew up in Riften, then eventually left and traveled "everywhere". He was friends with Brynjolf and Vex while in Riften, and was close with Aela, Vilkas and Farkas at least by the time he was a teenager.
> 
> [Chapter Soundtrack: Stabbing Westward "So Far Away", Robert Pattinson "Let Me Sign"]

Vira was screaming at Grelod. The headmistress had caught the girl and Fjornir kissing. Fjornir hid, and listened. He was frightened of the headmistress, but was worried she would hurt his friend, so he stayed close by. Grelod forbade Vira from ever kissing any boys again so long as she lived at Honorhall. Vira threatened to run away. Fjornir heard a loud smack and then a slamming door.

He stood from his hiding place and peered around the room. Empty. He waited a few more minutes to leave and go check on Vira.  _Grelod can't stop me from at least talking to her,_  he thought. He opened the door and calmly walked across the hall to the girls' bedroom, but was stopped by Vex.

The young, skinny blonde girl look furious. "Where's Bryn?"

"Brynjolf? I don't know. I haven't seen him since last night," answered Fjornir.

Vex made that face, the kind she always does when she wants to throttle someone. She was fierce for a nine-year-old. "He was suppose to be back by midday. I thought you were gonna go with him."

"I was going to, but by the time I woke up, he was gone." Fjornir began to walk around her toward the girls' bedroom but Vex grabbed his shoulder. "Hey!" Fjornir shouted at her.

" _Shh_ ," Vex scolded. "Look, I know about you and Vira." She looked around to make sure no one was listening. "I was talking with Bryn the other day... I think we should all run." A fierce, scheming nine-year-old.

"Run away?"

"Yeah. You, me, Vira, Bryn. Think she'd be up for it? Vira, I mean?"

Fjornir frowned. "Maybe. She's kinda... She's not like you, Vex."

The girl smiled. "Thanks."

The boy sighed. "I'm gonna go check on her."

"Alright, just mention it to her, hmm? We could make it, the four of us. Bryn is almost eleven and getting good with daggers."

"I'll talk to her," Fjornir replied, then walked away.

In the dim single-candle lighting, he saw Vira sleeping in her bed. He approached his friend, but slid and fell onto his backside with a loud thud. "Ow!," he exclaimed.

The young Fjornir was on the floor. He had slipped in something wet. Something dark. He stood and looked at his wet hands. Blood. He looked up at the sleeping Vira again. He finally saw it, the blood dripping from her bed. Fjornir held his breath. He walked closer. He hovered over Vira. Blood pooled around her neck. Her pale neck smiled at him. Her right hand grasped an old, rusty dagger. Blood stained the cuff of her favorite blue dress.

"No," Fjornir whispered. "No, no...," he began to cry, "Vira? Vira!" He tore off his old ratty shirt and held it to Vira's throat. "Wake up," he sniffled, "please." He choked on his own sobs. "Help," he called. "Help!" louder.

Children flocked to the sounds and gasped when they saw the blood. "So much blood!," someone whispered. "Fjornir killed Vira!" another said.

"Help," Fjornir cried, "Mara, no..."

"What's going on!?" Grelod stormed in, shoving the children aside.

"Fjornir killed Vira!" a horrible boy named Lund said.

"I did not!" Fjornir screamed. His face was flowing with tears.

"He didn't! He was with me!" shouted Vex.

"Horrible Daedra-spawn, the lot of you!" Grelod lurched froward and grabbed Fjornir, jerking him away from Vira's body.

"No! No! Vira! I won't leave her! Let me go!" Fjornir screamed and fought against the woman.

"Let him go!" Vex tugged at Grelod's elbow. As fierce and strong as the girl was, she was no match for a grown woman.

Grelod dragged Fjornir and Vex out of the bedroom and herded the rest of the children away and into the main hall. "Fjornir!" she shouted. "Where did you get a dagger!?"

"I didn't! I wasn't there! Vira...," he sobbed, "she cut..." He gritted his teeth. "It's  _your_  fault! You yelled at her for no reason! She's dead! Because of you!" Fjornir thrust his body forward, sending Grelod to the ground. He ran for his life, ran as fast as he could out of the orphanage, out of the door and down the wooden steps toward the lower levels of Riften, determined to hide in the Ratway like Brynjolf and Vex often did. He prayed to Mara that Vex was following him, or would follow. If she didn't run now, Grelod would punish her for defending him and for getting physical with the headmistress.

When Fjornir approached the Ratway entrance, he realized no one was following him. "Damn it, Vex." He picked the lock of the outer door and shut it behind him. He leaned against the wall, panting, sobbing, willing Vex to come soon. He waited for what felt like an eternity. With nothing better to do than wait, he sobbed, crying Vira's name over and over, wondering why she would do such a thing to herself. He wondered if Vex hadn't stopped him in the hallway, if he could have saved Vira. The possibility ate away at his insides.

The clicking sounds of metal-on-metal brought Fjornir out of his daze. He stood. "Vex?" he whispered.

"Let me in!" the girl replied.

Fjornir opened the door. Vex burst in and shoved the door shut. She was panting. Fjornir spied a cut on her cheek. "What's that?" he asked, grabbing her face and examining the cut.

"Grelod," she answered, rubbing her wound. "I got away, eventually." She examined her torn clothes.

"Come on, let's go to the Warrens," Fjornir suggested. "We can stay there for a while."

"Maybe Bryn is still there," Vex said in a soft voice.

"Maybe."

The two children descended the stairs into the Ratway.

"Fjornir?" Vex whispered.

The boy stopped walking and turned to his friend. "Hmm?"

Vex looked up at him and frowned. "I'm sorry. She was a nice girl."

Another tear rolled down Fjornir's ruddy cheek. "She was." He wiped away the tear. "Come on." He grabbed Vex's hand and led her deep into the underground hideout.


	2. Instinct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter Soundtrack: Phildel "Beside You", Florence + the Machine "Heavy In Your Arms"]

For over a month the three orphans laid low with the Thieves Guild, not resurfacing until there were no longer rumors that Grelod and the town guards were looking for the them. The children earned their keep by doing odd jobs – cleaning, go-for-ing, helping in the Ragged Flagon, and eventually, in the case of Brynjolf and Vex, pickpocketing and rummaging through storage barrels. Fjornir was bored a lot of the time, missing his friends in the orphanage and especially missing Vira, but passed the time by reading books and helping with record-keeping.

Vex and Brynjolf often practiced their aim, tossing daggers at targets in the Cistern, the huge round room where most of the guild members slept, chatted, ate, talked business, and practiced with their weapons. Technically, the members of the guild were not supposed to harm anyone – Karliah often lectured that they were indeed not the Dark Brotherhood – but they still practiced with daggers and bows and arrows, mainly. Fjornir, however, practiced with a one-handed sword. He had found one in the Ratway not long ago, and occasionally went down into the hideout to practice. Just before he fled the orphanage, he had finally developed the strength to not only lift the iron blade, but use it properly. Unlike his friends, Fjornir had no intention of actually joining the guild. He was just thankful that Gallus, the Guildmaster, was allowing the three children to stay among the guild for a while.

When a family of Redguard refugees were allowed to set up shop in the Flagon, Brynjolf found a fast friend in the ten-year-old Tonilia. Like Fjornir, Tonilia had no interest in joining Brynjolf and Vex on their thieving quests, but since her parents were merchants she had a good mind for dealing with money, and when she wasn't helping her parents in their little shop, she worked with Fjornir and Gallus, keeping track of the guild's expenses. Fjornir and the girl also practiced one-handed swords together. Her father had taught her to use the delicate, curving sword she carried, and though she was not as strong as Fjornir, she bested him in practice combat every time.

Tonilia would often tell Fjornir about the war in Hammerfell that ended just before her family left for Skyrim. She talked about the Aldmeri Dominion, and how her people both failed to defeat them and refused to surrender, which ended in a stalemate and some sort of peace treaty. Her family decided to leave the country anyway, fearing that the peace would not last very long.

Over the next few months, while working closely with Gallus, Tonilia and Fjornir noticed that the Guildmaster had become agitated and short-tempered. Fjornir worried about the man who had quickly become somewhat of a father figure to him. He overheard Karliah and Gallus exchanging softly-spoken words one evening in the Flagon, and hoped that the Dunmer was trying to cheer him up. This made Fjornir happy; the two were seen as parents to the guild, and especially to Brynjolf who had been unofficially working for the guild for the last two years. The children felt that so long as Gallus and Karliah were happy, the guild was happy.

Several days later, Fjornir searched for Gallus, but he was nowhere to be found. He heard shouts coming from the Flagon, and then silence. Fjornir walked over to the crowd that gathered by a cluster of beds, and waited. Vex and Brynjolf were not there, likely out and about around Riften, he thought. The Cistern was dead silent with everyone inside straining to hear what was going on in the Flagon. Suddenly the door burst open and Mercer stomped into the Cistern, startling Fjornir and most of the people waiting.

 _"Karliah!?"_  he shouted. The twenty-something Breton was furious. He walked over to an older thief named Svanir and grabbed at his armor, shaking the man. "Where is she!?"

Svanir shoved Mercer away from him. "Watch yerself, lad. I haven't seen her all day. Haven't seen Gallus, neither. I was hoping  _you'd_  seen 'em."

Mercer's chest was heaving in heavy breaths. He glowered at the old thief, then stomped over to Gallus's desk. Fjornir watched him sift through various papers and flip through the records book, and wondered what he would be looking for. He obviously found something interesting when he picked up a single piece of paper from the desk and stared at it. Mercer's friend Heima approached the desk.

"What is it, Mercer?" she asked.

Mercer looked at Heima, then at the crowd who stared at him. His shoulders hunched and his fist came down hard on the desk. "Gallus is dead."

The crowd let out a collective gasp. Fjornir felt a knot in his stomach, and tears welled in his eyes.

"This," Mercer held the piece of paper out to Heima, "is a note from Karliah to Gallus. He was to meet her at Snow Veil Sanctum. I just came from there." He let out a long sigh. His mood became morose. "I took a pack of recruits there, to test them. We were after artifacts and the other usual crypt goods. We didn't expect the draugrs..."

"Draugrs!" various people in the crowd shouted excitedly.

"I barely made it out alive. Two recruits were killed..." Mercer removed his gloves and threw them on the desk. "The other two quit."

"This note says that Karliah wanted to talk to Gallus. Talk about what?" Heima asked, passing the note amongst the crowd.

Mercer shook his head. "I don't know."

Fjornir thought he should say something, and finally found the nerve to speak up. "Gallus was unhappy. Anxious. Got angry easily."

The crowd looked at the boy.

"Is that right?" Mercer asked.

Fjornir nodded. "Just the last few months. I guess...," he looked at his feet, "maybe they were fighting."

Mercer crouched in front of Fjornir and mussed his hear. "Maybe, lad, maybe." The Breton frowned and stood. "I have a bad feeling that Karliah... did something horrible. Who knows why, but, I think she killed Gallus. Maybe it was accident, or she was defending herself, I don't know. But, where is she? If it was an accident, surely she would have told someone."

The crowd nodded and murmured their agreement.

Mercer sighed and walked back over to the desk. He rubbed his forehead with his hand in frustration.

Heima walked up to him and patted his back. "We'll look for her, Mercer. No matter the reason, killing our Guildmaster is inexcusable. Gallus is not the type of person to attack someone unprovoked, so I wouldn't believe any story of defense."

Svanir had a bad feeling about this whole mess, but wasn't about to say anything in front of Mercer.

"I'll take over this... business...," Mercer said, motioning toward the messy desk. "Someone needs to."

Fjornir's stomach was still in knots. He turned around and saw Svanir looking down at him. The old thief was not happy. Fjornir liked Svanir a lot. He trained him and Tonilia with their swords and helped them improve their sneak skills. Fjornir reached out his small hand and gripped Svanir's, then led him from the crowd and into the training room. The boy tugged on Svanir's sleeve, asking him to crouch down to his height.

"What's up, lad?" asked the old thief.

"Karliah didn't do it," Fjornir whispered. "They were fighting a little, but made up after. I heard them. She wouldn't kill him... She loved Gallus."

"I know. She wouldn't. Couldn't."

"Why is Mercer saying she did?"

"I wish I knew, lad. Wish I knew."

The next morning, Svanir was gone. When Fjornir asked Mercer where he'd gone, Mercer told him that Svanir and Heima along with several others went out to look for Karliah. Fjornir got a sick feeling in his stomach again. He inconspicuously grabbed his sword, filled a knapsack with some food and a canteen of water, and walked off to the Warrens. He'd hoped to find his friends, but no one was there. He saw signs of recent activity in the area, however, including a still-warm doused hearth fire in the kitchen area. He walked on toward the Ratway exit. When he reached the outer door, he considered just staying in the Ratway for a while until Brynjolf and Vex returned, but he didn't know how long that would be, and he didn't want to stick around for Mercer to find him. He didn't trust the man. Just looking at him gave him a stomach ache.

Fjornir breathed deep, opened the door to the lower level of Riften, and set out on his way north.


	3. The Demon Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter Soundtrack: Blue Fountain "Eyes On Fire (Zeds Dead Remix)"]

For several years, Fjornir worked in the mines at Shor's Stone. Though he was young, he was strong, and grew stronger every day. He was thankful for a job that kept him hidden from the world. The work didn't pay much, but it kept him busy, and kept his mind off of the Thieves Guild and off of the orphanage. A man named Odfel offered to let Fjornir sleep on a bedroll in his small home, which was good enough for Fjornir.

One in a while, Fjornir borrowed a bow and arrows from Filnjar, the local blacksmith, and would venture out into the woods to try and hunt down something to eat. When he did, he would let Filnjar keep the hide as payment for using his weapons. His aim was not very accurate, but he was getting better. More and more he was bringing down deer with one arrow to the neck or chest, rather than anywhere else on its body, making it run, and trying to track it down.

The air was chilly on the morning he nearly claimed a large stag. The arrow that claimed the life of his target came from his right. After watching the deer sink to the ground, he looked for the person that took his meal from him. "Hey! Who's out there? That was  _my_  shot!"

"Calm yourself, boy," muttered a red-haired man as he emerged from the forest. "Plenty of deer to share." The man leaned down and claimed his arrow, then turned behind him. "Perfect shot, Aela. Instant kill."

"Thanks, father." A tiny red-haired girl somewhat younger than Fjornir stepped forward from behind the man. She glared at Fjornir. "You're new around here." She folded skinny her arms across her chest.

Fjornir narrowed his eyes at the girl. "Yeah, so?"

The girl started forward at Fjornir; her father held her back, but otherwise ignored her. "Didn't mean to take your kill, kid. Tell you what, you help us field-dress it and you can have a cut. Deal?"

Fjornir contemplated the offer, and eventually agreed. "Sure."

Aela found the boy irritating. He was invading her monthly father-daughter hunting trip in The Rift, and this was utterly unforgivable. As she sliced around the lower legs of the deer while her father slit the animal down its belly, she considered throwing the deer's stomach, full of fermented greens, at the invader. Her plan was thwarted by her father, who removed the stomach immediately.

Fjornir and the man, Mundir, stripped the deer's hide away in one piece, and Aela was assigned the task of scraping clean the skin before it dried. In no time at all, the deer was quartered, each limb now in manageable portions, and its tongue and liver wrapped in cloth and tucked safely in Mundir's knapsack.

"So," Mundir said, "are you one of Filnjar's? Or Odfels? I didn't know either of them had children."

"No," answered Fjornir, "I'm just working in the mines right now. Living with Odfel."

"Aren't you a bit young to be minin'?"

Fjornir shrugged. "I needed money."

"Hmph, fair enough." Mundir helped Aela scrape the remainder of the hide clean, then rolled it up tightly. "Well, Fjornir, you're welcome to join us at our camp for the evening. I've got some wild spices and such. Make a mean venison steak. Don't I, Aela?"

Aela had her back turned to her father and Fjornir.

"Aela?" Mundir called her name.

When the fiery girl turned around, she had four lines of deer blood smeared down the length of her face. Fjornir stared wide-eyed when the streaks of red were broken by her white grin.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Fjornir woke to feeling pressure on his legs. He looked up to see the little red-haired girl straddling him, gripping a sharpened tine from the deer's antlers. Red hair, blood streaked down her face, bright blue eyes. The campfire light made her look like a tiny demon.

"What are you doing?" Fjornir whispered.

Aela gripped the antler tine tight and dragged it gingerly against Fjornir's tunic. "You don't look like a warrior."

Fjornir propped himself up on his elbows. "I never said I was."

A small smile made Aela's mouth twitch. "Where are you from?"

Fjornir sighed. "Riften."

"Orphan?"

Fjornir nodded a yes. He was confused at the girl's actions. At first, he thought that the girl was annoyed by his presence, but she seemed to slowly warm to him after she failed to make him cry by smearing deer's blood on her face.

Aela tapped the tip of the antler tine against her chin. "Hmph," she grunted. She stood from Fjornir's legs. "Come with us to Whiterun if you're sick of working underground. I think you'll like it there. Lots of warriors around."

"I'm not a warrior," Fjornir whispered in a harsh voice.

The girl turned back to Fjornir, smirked, and said, "And you're alright with that?"

* * *

Fjornir carried what little he owned in his knapsack; his small sword was tied tightly against a strap. As the man and two children set out west, Aela inquired about the sword.

"If you're not a warrior, why do you own a sword?"

"I found it, years ago."

"How's your arm?" she asked.

Fjornir shrugged.

The girl laughed. "I think you're more warrior than you know. You let your body doing your talking for you." Fjornir didn't respond. "I bet Skjor would teach you a few things, if you asked nicely. Or bribe him, perhaps. We're going to Jorrvaskr to see my mother. She's a Companion, like I will be someday."

"Companion?" Fjornir asked. "Like, Ysgramor's Companions?"

"Yup," Aela confirmed. "You should train a little with Skjor. Train with me. We could take our Trial together."

"Trial?"

"The test that lets us become recruits when we're at least sixteen years old."

"She's been ready for her Trial since she was nine," Mundir interjected. "Or so she'll tell you."

" _Pssht_ ," Aela responded to her father. At twelve, she knew she was ready.

"Do you live there, with the Companions?" Fjornir asked.

"No," answered Mundir, "I have a hunter's cabin in the southern woods. Close enough to Riverwood to trade for supplies. Far enough from Whiterun to keep Aela out of Jorrvaskr, keep her from annoying Kodlak."

Aela grumbled.

"I don't mind if you stay with us, so long as you pull your weight," Mundir said to Fjornir.

Fjornir knew this was the best offer he'd had since leaving Riften, and could hardly refuse. When the red-haired girl flashed him a big smile, he immediately said yes.


	4. To and Fro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter Soundtrack: Adventure Club "Need Your Heart (Minnesota Remix)", Claire Maguire "Ain't Nobody", Loch Lomond "Stripe II"]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Warning: The following chapter narrates some M/F kink and later werewolf sex. Nothing too crazy.]

Fjornir grew stronger. Aela grew stronger. The two young teenagers spent almost all their time together hunting, sparring, and bartering with Ulfberth War-Bear at the Warmaiden's in Whiterun. They traded in all of their hides from their kills and eventually were able to get good armor and better weapons. At fifteen, Fjornir finally had the stamina to wear heavy steel armor and wield weapons at the same time. As Fjornir would put it, at fourteen Aela had the ferocious agility of a wolf and the beautiful grace of a deer.

Mundir, Aela's father, saw it. Skjor and Kodlak saw it also. The twins, Vilkas and Farkas, who had lived in Jorrvaskr for nearly their entire lives and knew Aela well, were jealous.

Fjornir had fallen for Aela. Aela allowed Fjornir to fall for her.

But what no one else but Skjor saw was Aela's innate reverence for nature, and insatiable thirst for hunting. Skjor trained physically with Fjornir, bettering his arm with one-handed weapons, but it was Aela's spirit that Skjor trained. Whenever Aela, Mundir, and Fjornir visited Jorrvaskr to see Aela's mother Turinna, Aela and Fjornir would train with the Companions. When Fjornir spent time with the pre-recruit Vilkas, training each other with heavy two-handed weapons, Aela met in secret with Skjor in the Underforge, a cavern beneath the Skyforge with a shrine to Hircine, a Daedra who delighted in the Hunt.

Skjor spoke to Aela of the Blessing of Hircine. The girl was highly enthusiastic about the prospect of hunting for all eternity, and was even more excited when Skjor shifted for her, showing her that werewolves truly did exist. Skjor promised Aela that upon the completion of her Trial and induction into the Companions, she would be inducted into the Circle, and would become a werewolf and servant of Hircine. Skjor would be her forebear, her sire, as he himself would supply the blood for Aela's Blood Ritual. Though Aela loved her birth father very much, she felt a special, more spiritual connection to Skjor, and was told completing the Blood Ritual would only enhance their connection, as well as give her a spiritual link to Hircine.

Aela kept this secret from her parents and from Fjornir, and none of them knew that the members of the Circle were all werewolves. The other Companions, like Turinna, assumed that the Circle was merely a council of advisors, much like how the Harbinger, Kodlak, was advisor to all Companions. Aela wanted to tell Fjornir all about her meetings with Skjor and what the future would bring for her, but had been sworn to secrecy. If and when Fjornir was inducted into the Companions, Skjor and the other members of the Circle would determine whether or not Fjornir was worthy of Hircine's Blessing.

The day Aela's mother Turinna was returned to Jorrvaskr on her shield, Aela and Fjornir had been out hunting deer in the meadows west of Whiterun; Aela was already capable of piercing fleeing deer in the eye, whereas Fjornir struggled to even hit a vital organ on a still target. Mundir rode out with his horse to find Aela to bring her to say goodbye to her mother. For weeks after Turinna's death, Aela was inconsolable and despondent. She spent the majority of her waking hours in the Underforge where no one but Skjor could find her, and he had promised her not to disclose her whereabouts. Fjornir grew worried; he and Aela had begun somewhat of a relationship, and her frequent disappearing and being largely incommunicative made him feel abandoned. When Aela finally emerged from her period of solitary mourning, she had changed, and though Fjornir thought it not possible, she had become even more closed-off, hardened, and quick to anger. Fjornir never gave up on her, however, and even took over her father's tradition of taking her hunting once a month in the forests of The Rift.

Fjornir waited for Aela to turn sixteen, a year and a half after he did, so that they could take their Trial together. Everyone knew they would pass without much effort or worry. The induction ceremony was quite anticlimactic, concluding the Kodlak approving of their status and welcoming them to Jorrvaskr and into the Companions. For Fjornir, nothing about his life changed after his induction, except for the free food, drink and bed at Jorrvaskr. He and Aela continued to hunt often, and Fjornir finally consistently hit his targets in vital organs, even as they fled. He never mastered aiming for their eyes like Aela, however.

He wasn't sure how he felt about the moss-green warpaint that Aela had begun to wear on her face whenever they went hunting. It reminded him of the first day he met her years ago, on a hunting trip with her father in The Rift, when she smeared streaks of deer blood down her face. He let Aela paint his own face with the green gunk because it made her happy. When the stuff dried it itched terribly, but Fjornir never washed it off until they returned to civilization and took a bath.

About a month after their induction, Fjornir noticed, again, a change in Aela. She had become happier, livelier, and much more amorous. The day Fjornir took down a massive elk buck was the night Aela and Fjornir lost their virginity together, something Fjornir had desired for years but never dared request or initiate. Aela had always been in control of their relationship, and Fjornir was fine with that. He just wanted to be with her, grow closer to her, and was terrified to make first moves for fear she run away.

Even their intimate moments reflected the nature of their relationship. Aela almost never allowed Fjornir to lie on top of her, ravage her, or otherwise take control. More often than not, Aela would ride Fjornir, almost using him to pleasure herself rather than truly making love to him. Sometimes Aela would even bind Fjornir's wrists and restrain him in various ways: arms wrapped backward around the trunk of a tree, bound behind his back and attached by rope to his ankles, and most often, tied together above a strong branch so that his arms were raised above him. While restrained, Aela would pleasure Fjornir with her mouth, usually to completion, but sometimes she would bend forward, pushing herself against Fjornir's restrained body, forcing him to enter her. Aela and Fjornir decided on a word that could be uttered should he ever become uncomfortable - cabbage - but Fjornir never used it. There was something about being restrained and helpless that felt right with Aela. She was not the submissive type, not in the least, and for Aela, Fjornir would have done practically anything. Fjornir allowed Aela to use his body for her own pleasure, and in return, Aela allowed Fjornir to be her lover.

As the pair grew older, they adventured further and further from home. They encountered giants, mammoths, trolls and even the worst kinds of humans, orcs and elves - bandits, necromancers, and vampires. Every day, Fjornir fell more and more in love with the young woman. He loved her sense of freedom, her appreciation of nature, her skill as a hunter, and even her ardent stubbornness.

When Fjornir turned twenty, he was initiated into the Circle. Aela had been given permission from her forbear, Skjor, to tell Fjornir of Hircine's Blessing. Fjornir was entranced, and accepted the offer immediately. The night Fjornir's Blood Ritual was to take place, Skjor led Fjornir into the Underforge, a place he had not known existed until then. Inside waited a hulking werewolf, the first Fjornir had ever seen. He knew it was Aela, though, and Skjor confirmed it. Skjor made sure that Fjornir indeed wanted this blessing, and when the young man nodded, Skjor drew his dagger and, slowly dragged the blade across Aela's wolfish wrist, pooling her blood in a central stone cistern. Fjornir drank of her blood, and the transition started immediately.

Fjornir fell to his knees, grasping at his sides in pain. His blood boiled, his gut wrenched, and his bones felt as if they were ripping apart within his skin. Aela and Skjor stood still; Fjornir had to experience his first transformation and all the pain that it caused – a price to pay for receiving the gift of lycanthropy. Fjornir's screams were muffled by the thick stone of the Underforge, and his transformation completed unhindered.

Fjornir stared down at what was once his human hand. In its place was an enormous, fur-covered, deadly thing with nails like tiny ebony blades. He felt a sudden yearning within him that he could not identify.

Bloodlust.

 _That's what Aela called it_ , he remembered. He arched his back and looked up at Skjor, still in human form, and then at Aela in beast form, who had crept toward him during the transformation. Fjornir was on all fours, and walked slowly up to Aela, who stood on her hind legs easily. Letting his instincts take over, Fjornir butted his head and shoulder against Aela's thigh in a bestial nuzzle, much like how a dog greets its master. Aela dropped to all fours, and a low growl vibrated in her throat. Fjornir proceeded to lick her muzzle, and Aela accepted the submissive gesture. Skjor chuckled, and pulled the chain that opened the rear entrance to the Underforge, one that led outside Whiterun's borders, allowing for the members of the Circle to transform and hunt without risking discovery and capture by the town's guards.

Aela darted out of the Underforge, and Fjornir followed. They ran far from the town limits toward the southern forests. Aela spotted an errant goat, and leapt upon the animal. Though Aela made the kill, she allowed Fjornir the first bite – his first meal as a werewolf. The two beasts dined on the animal until nothing was left but horns and hooves. Fjornir then licked the blood off of Aela's wolfish chin and, to Fjornir's surprise, Aela returned the favor. The gesture initially confused Fjornir. His new instincts said that Aela was telling him that he was no longer her subordinate – he was her equal.

Aela emitted a low growl again, practically a purr, and nuzzled Fjornir's human-like chest. She was on all fours, walking away from him, her skinny, fur-covered hips swaying just as they did while in human form when she strutted for Fjornir as a signal of her arousal. When she turned around and grinned a wolfish grin, Fjornir snorted, and laughed. He was amused at the sound of his wolfish laugh, which was more a series of guttural huffing sounds. He approached Aela from behind, letting his deadly wolfish hands land on her haunches. His ebony claws ran down her sides and thighs, causing Aela to growl louder. Fjornir looked down at his own wolfish body – his torso, thighs, and midsection were all as a human's would be. Every single part.

Taking care not to puncture Aela's skin through her dark fur, Fjornir gripped her body and thrust his very human-like erection into her own very human-like mound. The sensation was brand new for the both of them. The pair howled in pleasure as Fjornir thrust into Aela with a ferocity and wild abandon that Aela otherwise never allowed previously. Aela squirmed beneath him, but Fjornir was able to hold her down, accidentally leaving the occasional scratch on her heavily-muscled forelegs. He lowered his muzzle and clenched down on the skin of her upper back. They had watched a pair of sabre cats mate in the same fashion some months before, and Fjornir wanted to take advantage of his first time dominating Aela. Holding Aela in place, Fjornir was able to thrust into her fiercely, repeatedly, and for longer than he had ever been inside her. Fjornir felt his climax mounting and with it came a loud, vibrating growl that slowly mutated into a piercing howl when he released into Aela.

As Fjornir's grip lessened, Aela found her opportunity to break free from her lover's wolfish embrace, and snarled as she did so. Fjornir laughed again, and Aela threateningly nipped at the air towards Fjornir. Exhausted, Aela lowered herself to the ground, relaxing as only a canine can, resting her jowls on her crossed paws. She licked her lips and yawned. Fjornir walked proudly up to Aela and gave her a quick nuzzle as if to say, "no hard feelings, eh?", then lay down next to her.

When the sun was at its zenith, Fjornir awoke naked and in human form, cuddled up behind a naked human Aela. Tundra cotton stalks swayed in the breeze, and tufts of white floated around their naked bodies, embedding themselves in Aela's long red hair. Fjornir reached around Aela's body, grasping her small, naked breast, and suckled her neck. Aela awoke with a moan, and quickly realized what was happening. She spun around, staring at Fjornir, her fierce blue-grey eyes piercing his sleepy grey-green eyes.

With one strong shove, Aela was on top of Fjornir, immediately impaling herself onto his morning erection. Fjornir gripped her hips tightly as she rode him, wishing he could take her from behind again. He let Aela do as she pleased, however, only touching her sensitive node when she placed his fingers on her soft red curls. His thumb rubbed the swollen nub as she thrust her body up and down. She placed Fjornir's free hand on her small breast and suckled on his large fingers. Fjornir clenched his jaw, wishing Aela would finish soon, knowing he was unable to hold off his own release much longer. If ever Fjornir did finish before Aela, she would punish him with sharp blows to his backside.

Sometimes Fjornir finished quickly on purpose.

Fortunately for Fjornir, Aela found her release in mere moments, leaving Fjornir free to release at the same time. Their mutual climax was intense, and after a night of turning into werewolves, hunting and coupling in beast form, the pair became exhausted again, and fell asleep immediately in the field full of cotton.

Nearly three years passed, and Fjornir and Aela continued their nighttime rituals of shifting, hunting, and fucking. Once in a while they still coupled as humans, leaving Fjornir to ask how Aela had not conceived a child yet.

"I can't," she said.

"Can't?"

"No, not now that I have the beast blood inside me."

"Oh," Fjornir replied, almost disappointed. "Can I? Not get pregnant, I mean, but, if I lay with a woman who was not like you, would she conceive?"

Aela propped herself up on her elbow and glared at Fjornir. "Who would you be fucking that wasn't  _like me?_ "

Fjornir gulped. "I wouldn't. It's just a question."

Aela continued to glare at her lover, but eventually answered. "Yes, she would get pregnant."

"Would the child be part werewolf?"

"No. Lycanthropy happens only through ritual, not through mating."

"Oh. Well, good. That's good to know."

"Is it?" Aela's tone was fierce, and defensive.

Fjornir smiled and kissed Aela's forehead. "Don't worry. You know you've got your claws in me." He winked.

Aela shoved him back and climbed out of their bed, causing Fjornir to laugh incessantly. She began to dress in her armor. "And who would you want to fuck, then? Ysolda!? I see the way she looks at you. And Farkas. And Vilkas."

Fjornir eventually stopped laughing. "No one, Aela. It was just a question. What if one day we wanted children? I suppose I didn't think of that when I joined the Circle, but perhaps it's something we need to discuss, since you're the one who would be doing the whole getting pregnant thing."

Aela stopped strapping on her armor and stared at Fjornir. "Would I, now?"

"Heh, well yes, Aela. I'm ill-equipped."

Aela finished dressing, and then pulled on her boots. "So am I," she said after a long pause.

Fjornir sat up, covering his naked waist with the bedsheet. "How so? You used to bleed once a month, as I recall. You may be unable to conceive now, but wouldn't the ability return if you were cured? Kodlak-"

"Kodlak!" Aela shouted, turning to Fjornir. "Fucking Kodlak. He got to you, did he? Upset that I  _cursed_  you, is he?" Aela walked up to Fjornir. "I don't  _want_  to be cured, Fjornir. I don't  _want_ children. I don't want…." She stopped herself from saying something she knew would hurt her lover's feelings, deeply.

"What?" Fjornir's eyes were wide with a mix of shock and concern.

"I don't want… I don't want to be…," Aela's shoulders sank as she looked into Fjornir's ever-kind eyes. "I don't want marriage, Fjornir." Aela looked away. "Not children, not a house on a hill with a dog and a hearth, not the responsibility of cleaning and cooking and wiping babies' asses…."

Fjornir frowned. "Oh," he said, clearly disappointed.

Aela folded her arms across her chest and faced away from Fjornir. "Do you hate me?"

"What? Aela…," Fjornir stood from the bed, letting the bedsheet fall to the floor. "I don't hate you. I could never hate you." He kissed her shoulder and ran his palms up and down her upper arms. "I love you." Fjornir held his breath after saying the three words he'd wanted to say for over ten years, but never could. He held her arms gently, bracing himself for Aela to run away from him. She wasn't one to confront her feelings head-on.

Aela grasped Fjornir's right hand with her left, holding it to her arm, wondering how to respond, wondering if she knew what she would say if she did. "I…," she began, "you're…," she swallowed hard, "I…." She lost her train of thought when Fjornir brushed aside her red hair and kissed her neck. "Oh…," she sighed.

"It's alright," Fjornir spoke quietly into Aela's ear.

Aela felt emotionally defeated. Fjornir had won. Aela turned, cupped Fjornir's face in her hands, and kissed him. That morning was the first time Aela asked Fjornir to make love to her as he would anyone else. Slowly, sweetly, gently, Fjornir pleasured Aela as he'd always imagined, treating her body like a delicate flower, not the hardened steel it actually was.

For Fjornir's twenty-third birthday, Aela took Fjornir hunting in The Pale. "A new experience," she had explained. It snowed the entire time up north, but Aela had no trouble sending her arrow into the eye of a large elk doe. Under the protection of a rock overhang, shielded from both snow and wind, Fjornir gorged on the animal's liver while Aela roasted its meat, wrapped in garlic leaves, over a spitfire. It was not really his birthday—it was the day he arrived at the orphanage. The liver was Aela's gift to Fjornir. She still denied him what he truly desired.

As the hunting trip in The Pale dragged on, Fjornir understood that their lives were going in two separate directions. Aela would never concede, never give Fjornir the family he longed for, and Fjornir regretted more and more accepting Hircine's "Blessing". He loved Aela, and wanted to spend his life with her, as well as the afterlife. But while the beast blood coursed through his veins, dying would send him to Hircine's eternal hunting grounds, not Sovngarde, something that plagued his mind constantly, as it did Kodlak's.

When they returned to Jorrvaskr, Fjornir left for Riften. News of unrest in the town concerned him, and he worried about his childhood friends Brynjolf and Vex. He had left while Aela slept, unable to confront his lover. It was now his turn to shield his emotions.


End file.
